Sprinting with Dragons
by Iryl
Summary: An alternate reality. Formerly 'Fairy Tales aren't exactly Disney anymore.' This is gonna be undergoing a rewrite.
1. Glade Tidings

Title: Fairy Tales aren't exactly Disney anymore...   
Author: Iryl 

~~*~~   
Sally Po, head of the Sanc Kingdom's Royal Guard, turned her brown stallion, blanketed ordinarily for protection from thieves or assassins, to a small clearing where a cool crystalline stream bubbled peacefully. She was lucky to have stopped at that inn for the night, because they had told her of this lovely spot to rest at noon when the sun was hottest. She dismounted and led the beautiful creature to the water, where he drank calmly, and took off her hat, laying back and pushing honey-brown hair away to feel cool grass against her hot neck.   
    "Who are you?" someone asked, and Sally whirled in surprise to find a young Chinese man leaning up against a gnarled tree trunk, gazing at the intruder through slitted dark eyes. Sally inconspicuously felt for the dagger in her waistband just in case he was dangerous and found that it was readily accessible, but did not draw it, preferring to wait and see if he was.   
    "I might ask the same thing," Sally replied, her pale blue eyes wary.   
    His face softened only the slightest bit as he shrugged. "You can call me Wufei. What are you doing here?"   
    "Sally," she said curtly, and answered, "The innkeeper in the last town told me about this spot, because I helped her daughter." She didn't bother to mention that she had saved the little girl from falling into a well. It didn't seem necessary.   
    The young man nodded, accepting the story, "You're a traveler." He observed, "That would explain why you have a knife that you're thinking about pulling." Seeing her shock, he laughed, and moved beside the stream, only a few feet from her, watching her horse drink, but still aware of her presence. "One should be cautious on the road. But you need not fear me . . . unless I give you reason to fear." Wufei slid her a dark-eyed glance. "In any case, I would give plenty of warning if it were so. It would not be honorable to take on a defenseless woman."   
    Sally bristled. "I am probably a better fighter than you would think."   
    The young man startled her by bursting out laughing. It irked her, but at the same time she had to note how beautiful he looked when laughing. "You," he gasped, giving her a derisive head-to-toe, "are but a woman. You were born to make babies and take care of your sniveling weak husband. That a /woman/ would be as good a fighter as myself is laughable." He smiled, charmingly, but with a hint of chill behind it, to show just how "laughable" it was. "Women are weak."   
    Sally was angry now. How dare this sniveling, snot-nosed BRAT say that kind of thing! She was chosen /specifically/ by Queen Lucrezia to be the head of her royal guard. Not only were they best friends, but Sally could kick butt better than anyone else on the force, minus perhaps King Miliardo's brother-in-law, Prince Heero. "Care to prove those words?" she asked dangerously. Her men knew her when she was in this mood, when an upstart new guy dared test her, and the disbeliever usually ended up with a broken nose and his face in the dirt. She really considered herself kind to those boys . . .   
    But this guy pushed her buttons.   
    His eyebrows were arched elegantly, obviously not thinking much of the challenge, and Sally pushed her anger down, standing and switching into fight mode as she stood ready. The young man simply shrugged, smirking, and stood, standing instinctively in a battle position, falling into the stance as a trusting child would their mother's arms.   
    Sally lashed out with one foot, which was easily avoided. As she threw a punch, Wufei moved minimally and it grazed by his ear. He grinned and Sally became furious, losing her temper, and threw a kick at his legs, making him jump over it, before slamming a fist into his stomach and feeling it connect with a sickening sound. He fell to his back, before anger flashed in his eyes and he twisted lithely, wrapping his legs around her ankles and knocking her feet out from under her before rolling over and pinning her to the ground.   
    "Give up?" he whispered, eyes heated with but coldly still for all that, and face only inches from hers. With all she had done, he had blocked, never attacking, but when he had, it had completely taken her down.   
    Sally felt her eyes narrow and tried to kick him off, but his weight was on her and she couldn't move him. He put a hand to her throat gently, then pushed himself off her.   
    "I win," he said simply, "in a real fight you would be dead," and then looked at the sky, changing subjects abruptly, as if the fight had been no more than proof of a truth he had already known and had gotten boring. "Where are you going? I could give you directions."   
    "The castle," Sally told him coolly, dusting grass and leaves off her brown breeches, but still caught his surprised glance. "What?"   
    He only shook his head minimally and got that cool, emotionless look back again. "I know where it is. The main road will take you longer. I can lead you there the way I usually take."   
    "How do you know where it is?" she asked quizzically.   
    "I work for the king," he replied in a voice that provoked no more questions.   
    She mounted her horse hurriedly and followed where he had already started down a thin path, mounting and riding his own dark stallion bareback to lead her along a very scenic route. Sally noted how the loose white shirt he was wearing was jerked in the wind as he rode, showing off his slenderness quite well, then cursed herself in her mind, remembering what a chauvinistic, small-minded jerk he was.   
    "There are the main gates," he stopped and pointed, then turned to go in another direction.   
    "Wufei!" Sally called, and he looked back. "Next time I'll beat you!" He snorted and went on, amused, and she rode up to the main gate. 


	2. Ambassadorialship

  
Wufei Chang took care of his horse before entering the castle. The cook, a large intimidating woman, fussed at him as he went through and grabbed a roll off those just prepared for dinner when the ambassador was to come, but he got out of it by swirling her around and landing an affectionate kiss on her cheek. "I'll just eat one less at dinner," he told her, and she sighed, smiling and shaking her head at him as he went up to his room by the back stairs. At least he wasn't all sweaty this time.   
    Wufei finished the roll and passed his brother's room as the door opened. His older brother, Mao, came out in his formal wear, an impressive broad figure, having taken after their father while Wufei took more after their slender mother, and made a disgusted noise at the younger Chang. "The ambassador is here," he told Wufei, folding his arms and leaning against the doorjamb. "She has to rest from traveling, but you better be on time for dinner or father will be furious."   
    "She?" Wufei turned back, looking at his brother in surprise. The lovely stranger flashed into his mind, but he quickly dismissed the thought. /That/ woman would never be able to hold her temper long enough to negotiate peaceful relations with another country.   
    His brother grinned. "Yeah, and I saw her coming in. Rather good-looking for a foreigner." Wufei snorted, then, playfully flipping his brother's nose, turned and went to wash the little sweat he'd acquired while riding off. His fight with the woman hadn't even made him perspire.   
    Opening his room door and remembering her last words, he chuckled in amusement again, tossing his shirt onto the bed.   
    "Your majesty," his manservant picked up the discarded shirt to take it to the washing women. Wufei turned and examined his manservant. Elk was a spindly creature, furtive and nervous, darting about doing what he was told with a beaten air.   
    Living under my father, Wufei thought, would do that to anyone.   
    "Go," he said out loud, going to the bath that had been drawn for him. He needed to clean up, and having Elk watch him bathe was just creepy. 

Wufei cursed as he ran to the dining hall. With luck, he would arrive before the ambassador and avoid his father's anger.   


    "Hurry, you can make it," the cook called as he darted by, receiving a wave and a sudden burst of speed in response. It was hard to run in the stifling dark silks, but his mother demanded proper protocol, and Wufei let his arms take the impact on the doors as he pushed the heavy golden things open, noting the spiraling golden dragon engraved upon them vaguely as he glanced around and noted the glare his parents were sending him as one.   
    "It's about time," his father muttered, and his mother quickly adjusted the collar on his silks, her lips pressed into the thin line that meant she was harried. Wufei only offered her a roguish wink before she turned to the opening doors, shaking her head in amusement at her silly son (who would be the death of her yet, scaring her like that) and straightening her skirts as the ambassador entered. Her first thoughts were of what a charming young woman the ambassador was, as she walked up to them in a pace neither too rushed nor too slow and curtseyed deeply. Mrs. Chang bowed in return along with her sons, her husband the king only nodding his head, and noted how both Mao /and/ Wufei looked rather affected by this woman. Mao was certainly thinking of what a lovely, vital young woman she was, and Wufei . . . he just looked stunned. Mrs. Chang resisted the urge for a motherly chuckle. What young man would not be with such a beautiful girl before them? She was very happy, because she had been very discontent lately about her younger son's disinterest in women. He needed a nice girl . . .   
    Sally . . . Po, Mrs. Chang recalled, and smiled graciously at the young woman in the pale blue silk gown, the color heightening that of her eyes splendidly. The girl's hair was honey, and her skin fresh milk. How perfectly lovely, she thought again as her husband took her arm, and Mao offered the young woman his to escort her to dinner. She accepted graciously, but Mrs. Chang caught the wide-eyed glance back at her younger son, and mentally noted it. 

Wufei wondered if she could tell how shocked he was. Probably not. She knew he was shocked, but he had been trained to hide his emotions well, and surely could not know the extent of his situation. He was sure his mother noted his reaction to Sally, though, and was now plotting something evilly romantic in that dark-crowned head of hers, but he also wondered what the pale ambassador would think if she knew what he was thinking of at the moment. How that he had dawdled too long in his bath because of thoughts of her, daydreams of that fire that had burned within her eyes when she challenged him earlier that day.   


    But now she seemed completely docile, languid even, and the only signs of her earlier animation showed in those same sky-blue eyes, where, if he looked long enough, were flashes of interest, thought, and a political intelligence he did not think many women possessed. Anyone simply glancing at her talks with his father would think her dull, but on further inspection would catch sight of the furious mental processes burning through her mind, behind the soft exterior.   
    "Dear," Wufei jumped at his mother's soft voice and light touch on his hand and realized he had been brooding darkly at a tapestry across from him, taking only occasional sips from the wineglass he swirled in one slender hand and ignoring his food.   
    Wufei let out his breath softly, giving her a wan smile to show everything was alright. "Sorry Mother." He sipped at his soup absently to give the impression that he actually had an appetite, and noted his father looking at him.   
    "What's wrong with you?" the large man asked bluntly, dark brows drawn together. Wufei was uncomfortable under the scrutiny but did not show it. After a moment: "Did that meeting you had with Councilor Yang go well?" the dark eyes continued to probe, and Wufei understood what his father was concerned about. He had done something very different than meet with Councilor Yang the other day and his father knew it. He was asking if the job had been done well, and if anyone suspected that the oldest member of the Council – and similarly the one who opposed his father the most – had not died of natural causes.   
    "No, everything was fine. Perfect." He sipped at his soup again, concentrating on his food so that he did not have to meet anyone's eyes, and added blandly that he was only concerned about a slight limp his favorite horse had developed. His father nodded after a moment, turning back to the ambassador.   
    "We were thinking of having a party for your arrival, ambassador," he heard his mother saying a little later. He had managed to tune out the political conversations, but was not able to ignore how his brother glanced every so often with fawning eyes at the lovely ambassador. For some reason he did not like this. "And if you did not bring appropriate wear," his mother was continuing, "I know I have something that would do." Wufei snorted ungentlemanly as he shot a look at her blue gown – so odd for his country – and earned a glare from everyone at the table. He only murmured an apology, still smiling faintly. The look she had given him was worth the indelicacy. Indignance, anger, and a bit of a self-conscious blush warming her cheeks. He'd waited all night for her to look like that again and confirm that she /was/ the woman he had encountered earlier, and that she had not been some phantom.   
    "Forgive my son," Mrs. Chang apologized to the flushing ambassador. How was she ever going to get him a wife if he treated females so atrociously? "He can be an idiot sometimes." She shot Wufei another glare, one that promised something for after dinner, and was relieved to see her son buttering a piece of bread meekly and the young woman relaxing slightly. 

"Who knew that the annoying little thing I met earlier would be the ambassador?" Sally heard the chuckle behind her, but refused to acknowledge the words and continued to hold her head high, only pulling her robe tighter about her nightgown-clad form in response to the prince's presence. He gazed out over the manicured lake, standing behind the white stone bench she sat on, and smiled slightly at the moon reflecting upon calm surface. "Trust you to find /another/ of my favorite haunts," he murmured, placing his hands gently on each of her shoulders and massaging the tense muscles there.   


    She moved out from under his hands and walked over to a small pavilion, hoping he had not noticed how the small shoulder-rub had affected her. He was very good with his hands. Better than she would have liked to admit, though Sally would bet he could make a killing in massage therapy.   
    "I've upset you," he sounded more interested than contrite, and moved up beside her. She pulled the robe tighter, disconcerted, and he reached to brush a wisp of hair away from her ear.   
    Sally exploded, jumping back and slamming his hand away, every fierce emotion she had had to restrain since entering the palace coming through in her eyes, shattering the thin layer of self-control she had held over them like a drowning man through flimsy ice. They held the position a moment, back of her hand holding his away, the other slender pale fingers grasping what was left of her dignity as she held the robe closed, eyes burning into his like chips of hot ice, and him staring back, entrapped in the intensity of her gaze.   
    "I was wondering when you were going to stop all that 'sweet little ambassador' crap," he murmured, and Sally's eyes narrowed. Wufei looked at her secretively and whispered, "I like you much better this way."   
    She took her hand away, eyes never leaving his or dimming in their fierceness for a moment, before she turned silently and walked back to the castle.   
    He didn't bother to follow her.


	3. Rematch

Sally got dressed and went to her door early the next morning, finding two notes shoved underneath. The first was in a delicate, feminine hand, and read: /Ambassador, if you would meet me in my room when you awaken, I shall outfit you for the rest of your visit here. I hate to admit it, but my husband will think the better of you if you are garbed in clothes he is comfortable with. Sincerely, Queen Chang./   
    The second had a darker, quicker style to the quill-strokes and read: /Sally, if you want that next fight, come to the clearing at noon. Wufei./   
    She looked over them both, noting differences in both style and wording, and tucked the latter into her bag, and the former carried with her, asking a servant the way to the Queen's chambers. There, she found the door open and the Queen beckoned her in, surrounded by clothing piled upon chairs and furniture, not to mention the three poor maids holding about four dresses apiece. "I hope I'm not offending you, dear," Queen Chang said, looking slightly distraught, but smiled when Sally replied warmly that she understood the need for proper clothing in politics. 

After much changing and fitting, Sally was dressed for lunch and the Queen had the rest of the clothes sent to the ambassador's room. Since she had expressed a wish to take her horse out for some exercise, the Queen had chosen a short-sleeved black satin with a white embroidery dragon across the front, and slits up both sides so that she could ride comfortably. Sally noted happily that she would be able to fight in it as well. And so she rode her brown to the clearing at noon after lunch, not finding Wufei at the meal, and not being able to easily dissuade his brother from coming riding with her. His eyes had been far too admiring for her tastes, his demeanor too assuming.   


    She found Wufei's black tied beside a small side stream branching from the main, and tethered her brown beside it, then walked the small path to the clearing. Wufei was sitting on a large rock by the stream and gazing into the trees across from him thoughtfully, his back to her. He was dressed simply, as he had been before, and she took the moment to twist her hair so that it would stay out of the way while they fought.   
    He heard her approaching but didn't bother to turn for a moment. When he did glance back, he caught sight of an exotic beauty thoughtfully looking into the grass and forming her hair into two twists falling over either shoulder. The dress – he had never seen the dress before, but he was sure it was his mother's doing – fitted to her, making her much more feminine than she had been previously in those dusty traveling clothes or that funny-looking blue gown. Only when she turned did he notice the slits going up either side of the skirt, freeing her movement and showing quite a bit of leg in the process. Wufei smiled vaguely to himself and straightened out his thoughts as pale foreign eyes met his.   
    She frowned as if she had read his thoughts, but he only smiled enigmatically and hopped down from his position on the boulder.   
    They started energetically, and Wufei let her get a few light hits, but nothing major. After he felt himself start to work up a sweat, he knocked her down and pinned her, but she kicked out of it and rolled onto him, where he was just about to push her off, breathing lightly and quickly, glancing up into her purposeful blue eyes . . . and felt her lips pressing onto his own.   
    Wufei paused a moment, startled, before succumbing to her demanding kiss, meeting her mouth with his own and matching her urgency. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her down to him, and felt her trailing hands moving down his sides, one brushing his leg and moving up to her own . . .   
    "/Up woman/!" a harsh voice ordered, and all activity stopped as the pair looked to see Mao with his sword toward Sally's face. "How dare you seduce and attempt to murder a member of this family?!"   
    "Mao," Wufei started, then noticed the small knife in Sally's right hand. The garter would have held it, he realized, and she gave a wry, impish smile, shrugging.   
    "All's fair in love and war. I would have won, too." Wufei stared at her a moment, before sitting back on the grass, dumbfounded.   
    Yes, she would have. How had he allowed his emotions to overcome his warrior's senses? She could have brought the dagger to his throat while he was distracted, and claimed the win. Very effective. But his reverie was broken as Mao dragged the woman to her feet and pulled her on his horse. Wufei, in his muddled state, did not have time to protest before he rode off with Sally looking back, meeting the confused gaze of the solitary figure as he became smaller with distance. 


End file.
